


L'Eau à La Bouche

by the Science Sinner (sanguinePengu1n)



Category: Punch-Out!! (Video Games)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Bilingual, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Dirty Thoughts, Edging, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, French Kissing, French phrases, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Other, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Reader-Insert, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vanilla, imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 10:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12604116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinePengu1n/pseuds/the%20Science%20Sinner
Summary: Due to the alarming lack of reader-inserts, my brain drove me to write this.Based on an NSFW imagine from the inactive Tumblr blog, imaginepunchynsfw, featuring Glass Joe, our other favourite fighting Frenchman.Reader is DFAB, but is referred to with gender-neutral language whenever possible.





	1. Romcom and Chill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jamieaiken919](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamieaiken919/gifts).



> The scenario in question is: "Imagine riding Glass Joe’s face, him fucking you with his tongue until you’re a shaking, quivering mess on top of him"
> 
> Also, I'm fluent in French from 10 years, but if someone here is an native French speaker, feel free to make corrections of my Frenching because I'm bad at grammar.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some moments of romcom and chill and you give him this look
> 
> We're starting with the build-up to the scene first. Chapter title says all.

You recalled the things that lead up to this. 

Earlier, you heard the sound of the door being unlocked, then opened. You turned your head, towards the one who came in. There stood your longtime boyfriend, a few steps away from the doorframe. He let out a sigh. He was finally home, alone with you.

You smiled warmly. He’s here! What seemed like hours at training felt more like years at a war. You were too relaxed on the couch to run up to him and give him a tight hug.

“Rough day today?” you remembered asking him first.

_“Comme toujours.”_ [1] He casually replied. His hair was all roughed up, and you could swear that those where fresh bruises covering the old ones. He passed across to exit the living room, but not before coming up to you to kiss you on the cheek. 

_Comme toujours._ That was another new phrase you’ve learned from him. It meant, “as usual.”  
You wished there was something you did together as usual.

You waited for him to join you on the couch after he was done winding himself down from the long day. And there he appeared from the doorframe, and he went to sit himself down, right by your side. The screen of the TV produced the image of a French romantic comedy with translated subtitles for your convenience. It was easy for you to set up ever since you settled yourself here. 

You looked at him again. Joe had fixed up his red hair in its typical coiffure which would, inevitably, soon get messed up again later on. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater, you’ve always told him that his sweater looked cozy and inviting. But instead of its typical black colour, it was dark red, certain to invoke a warm emotion within you. The whole thing looked different from the jacket you had let him borrow when he was on his way to train.

You never knew why he continued to do the sport of boxing if he kept on losing. Who hadn’t seen his record? But he was your boyfriend, who at the time, was still losing. The opponents he faced were better in skill, but not in character. Many people had asked you why you would proudly admit that Glass Joe was your favourite boxer. The reason was not on how well he boxes (which was terribly), but who he was on the inside. From the first few matches you watched, you noticed the charming determination within him. It drew you in like the fresh scent from a local bakery. Lastly, he never surrendered, highly unlike the typical French stereotype he supposedly embodied. And so, you had decided to stand by him in spirit, every time he stepped in the ring. From that point, you had become an ascended fan of his. 

Even if its content was full of clichés and idealism, you'd rather watch that cheesy program together, than being all alone to see him get beat up again. Or even a replay of that match with a certain novice boxer with so much potential. It’s not that you didn’t want to remind Joe of his losses, especially his most recent one against the newbie. A kind Frenchman like him, though he was proud of representing his country, didn’t seem like he could have such a grudge against the boy. If he were to do a rematch, it wouldn't be for revenge. It would just be a chance he'd take. Or an opportunity to see Mac again. You don't know the real reason why, but both of you were silently cheering the Little Mac on for his budding career. Besides, he seemed like he was a nice person, just like Joe.

And here, you absolutely loved the physical presence of your significant other. It beat the sight of him on a cold, calculating electronic screen. You’re sure that Joe returned the exact feeling with you.

As expected, you eventually got bored of the romcom. Could they just kiss already or something? Your head rested on his shoulder while your eyes fluttered from being half-closed to wide open, like a sunny day full of clouds that couldn’t make up its mind for the natural lighting of a room. You were more interested in the man beside you than the playing program. With this, you had just noticed how form-fitting his sweater was. You could see his muscles underneath. Of course, it complimented his figure in such an attractive manner. You could just picture yourself burying your face into his chest, to stay there to keep yourself warm in a cold room in case the air conditioner malfunctioned again. He looked comfier than a combination of a blanket and pillow, even a bed.

Speaking of ‘bed’...guess what you decided to do? You knew you had to engage in the conversation first to lead up to...that.

 _“Je m’ennuie.”_ [2] you said to him, trying to remember the French phrases you’ve mentally collected from the conversations he had with his family over the phone and the scenes on TV.

He only responded with a nod. A ‘yes.’ But a ‘yes’ in response to what?

“Tu veux faire quelque chose d’autre?” he asked you. He was testing your comprehension skills, but your lack of response worried him. Did you not understand what he said? Had he confused you, just like you confused him?

You knew the impression of what he was trying to communicate to you, though. If it sounded like a question, you’d have to take a moment to give him an answer. You nuzzled up against the crook of his neck. You felt his body warm up to balance out your own body temperature. 

_You managed to tilt your head towards his ear. “Oui,”_ you whispered to him in a husky tone. Then you switched back to speaking English. “And I know exactly what I want to do.”  
Glass Joe had immediately understood your message. You heard and felt his breath hitch in his throat. He took a brief pause as his form went stiff as a stale baguette. Did you get him excited? Nervous? Or surprised?

“And it involves you.” you continued, tracing a finger down his chest. “You and I, alone with each other in one room.”

_“Vraiment?”_ [3] he gently quipped, in a somewhat rhetorical tone He was smiling too. 

He was playing the naive facade with you, as you shifted yourself onto his lap. You easily gazed into his eyes. They were full of a calm desire, which hid a primal side that would eventually reveal itself at one point. With that, the both of you finally got rid of the emotionally distant gap once set in between.

It was an immediate, passionate kiss. There was a hint of needing in it, like such a kiss wasn’t given in a long time. Which was true, you’ve given each other pecks and short, small kisses here and there since the last time you went all the way. He slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him where you felt your body warm up. Joe had eventually beaten you to deepening the kiss when he gently pushed his tongue into your mouth. This lead you to do the same to him, and that's when you caught yourself performing a French kiss. Your eyes were already closed when that happened. How stereotypical can this guy get?

You felt like you both were showing those dense TV characters on how it’s done, even if you knew they wouldn’t watch and learn anyway. A movie with love mixed into it pre-recorded, predictable, filmed and scripted. But what you two were doing wasn’t on a directed, written-out plan-- it was improvised. It was the best, most natural kind of acting one could pull off.

The sudden lead up to a make-out session had seemed like you were able to pause the progression of time, down to the stiff hands of the clock hanging somewhere on the wall. You pulled away to refill your lungs with that sweet mix of oxygen and his scent. When you went back, this time to make a mark that could be hidden under the sweater’s neck, you heard his baritonal voice over you again. 

_“Non,”_ he gently protests, giving you small pecks on your forehead. _“Pas ici…”_ [4]

You sucked harder on his neck. When you were sure that you have given him a drastically different kind of a bruise, you pulled away, quietly proud of yourself.

Your hand rested to caress his shoulder, then it dropped to you side. Instead, you put some pressure on your hips against his. You could see him bite back a groan, feel that he wanted this as well...

Then you pulled away completely, giving him some space to get up. You reached for the remote to turn the TV off.

“All right,” you told him softly. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] "As always/As usual." 
> 
> [2] "I'm bored."
> 
> [3] "Really?" 
> 
> [4] "No...not here..." 
> 
> More Frenching to come in the next part. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	2. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i need really need sleep. it's 3 AM. gdi.
> 
> To enhance the mood, listen to 'L'Eau à la Bouche' by Amandine Bourgeois. 
> 
> https://youtu.be/fjE2eqIx26U

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally titled this fic _Like French Kissing, But Not Your Mouth_ which is a lyric line in Mindless Self Indulgence's 'Sex for Homework.' Then by searching 'sexy french songs' I discovered that one French song I mentioned above, which is REALLY fitting with the moments and the feeling I've added to this fic. It's like the fic being told based on Joe's thoughts. 
> 
> Reason? The song's title literally translates to 'mouthwater' but also means 'make one's mouth water' according to the Reverso Dictionary, so...take a wild guess. *wink wink*

Now you are here, alone with him in the bedroom. Typically, anything that lead up to this point would have taken place right on the bed.

This time is different. You’re both glued to the cold surface of the floor. And there you realize, no matter whatever, wherever or whenever it is, the thing that really matters is that…

You love him.

You love Glass Joe, and his face. His handsome face, with typical French characteristics. Beautiful dark eyes, tired yet truly tender, calm and kind. His nose is just as prominent as his sensitive jaw. Did he name himself ‘Glass Joe’ on purpose, to make a reference to an important part of his face? Like glass, it’s fragile. But very nice to look at. It must be handled with great care.

Clad in nothing but his underwear, Joe puts his hands on your hips. With that, you automatically know what he was going to do with you and your mostly-naked body. 

"You don’t need to ask me before you do this.” you tell him reassuringly.

He doesn’t do anything, and you give a slight frown of impatience. “Unless you’ve changed your mind. You can tell me. Trust me, I won’t be upset at you. Like, you don’t have to if you don’t wa--oh god!”

That’s when he suddenly starts up. You give him a sharp inhale. Your hips would have bucked up and broke his face. If that happened, how would you explain that to a doctor? “Yes, Doctor. I hit my boyfriend’s jaw when we were just starting the sex, with me riding his face. It totally wasn’t my idea to do that, by the way.” Yikes. A reason like that could have ruined your sex life in some way.

It was a good thing Joe is well prepared. He does show that he thinks things thoroughly and slowly. He takes the precautions before getting down to business. This really surprised you at the first time you both had done it. You remembered when you were about to ask him about using protection, when, without a word, he pulled out a few condom packets. 

His tongue starts by circling around the core, then over and around its folds, anywhere that wasn’t that one sensitive spot that quickly levels up on your arousal. You were already damp for him, and with that appendage, it’s likely that it would get even wetter. He is slowly teasing you, not that you’re complaining…

Small sounds emit from your throat, as if there were neighbours at the other side of the hall. By that time, Joe begins gently caressing your thighs, possibly to nonverbally encourage you to be as loud as you want. You might as well act like you two were the only ones in the world right now. The walls aren’t that soundproof, but he’s pretty much telling you to throw that worry over your shoulder and enjoy yourself. For him, you comply.

Soon enough, one of his hands moved from their place on your thigh. It sticks itself up, between his face and where his mouth was working at. Two fingers bring themselves up to spread your lower lips open. It gives him more access to the area. Your hips twitch involuntarily at the newly invoked sensation. You give a content hum as he gains his way with you. 

He’s aware of the engorged bundle of nerves. You can practically feel it waiting to get into contact with him in any way he wants it. He knows exactly where it is; he has done this before ever since you showed him where things were. It was an informal, ‘hands-on’ lesson he could never forget. The memory is vivid in him, and it shows. You feel the stimulation anywhere but there. That when you find out that he’s avoiding the area on purpose. He was doing up-and-down licks, and whenever he reaches up there, he goes back down again. 

Lost in the wraps of longing pleasure, you’re completely distracted when you feel an abrupt shockwave washing throughout your body. You give out a mix of a scream and a yelp as you tense up. You feel like lifting yourself up towards the ceiling. Thankfully, the hand that rested on your thigh became an arm that keeps you in place. His wrap was tight around you, and you swear it’s pushing you further onto his face. It’s overwhelming, and that’s when you realize he’s finally giving his attention to the swollen nub he neglected before. 

Your moans then get louder. You want to rock your hips against him, but you’re smart enough to let your back arch only. And you don’t want him to stop, because you’re already close. You pant heavily above him, indicating your high emotions. Between them are supposed to be words, warning him that you’re about to cum, but instead, they come out as complementary noises. _Almost there,_ you think. _Just getting all…_

To your mix of surprise and disappointment, he stops. You look down at him with pleading eyes.

“Hey...why did you stop there?” you whine. “I was about to--”

You gasp sharply. What he does next was worth another scream, but this was too shocking to let one out. Your hand instinctively comes up to cover your mouth. His tongue has plunged itself into you. It’s your overall favourite appendage you liked inside of your body. You leave some space, almost like letting go of the last of your sexual restraint. Thus a guttural moan rings from your vocal chords, and as he pushes in and out. You throw your head back. Your palms were once rested flat on the floor, but now they formed into claws. If this was a bed, you could have ripped two holes in the sheets. Great thinking from the great Glass Joe, again.

You become more vocal than you were before, but now you’re able to say things that were slightly more coherent. Things like ‘ah fuck, yes’, ‘right there’, and ‘don’t stop, please don’t, oh god, oh god fuck.’’ Joe remains silent, his warm breath against your folds as he works his way deep into your core. From that point, every time you get so close, he’d stop until you’re all calmed down, then he repeats the pattern. 

Such a tease. But you love it, just like you love him. You loved this a lot. He really knows how to use that tongue.

By about now, you’re feeling yourself trembling above the Frenchman, trying not to crush his skull between your thighs. You’ve gotten so pleasured to the point where you don’t think you can hold it back in anymore. He seems to have already gotten that message, like he notes your body language and the noises you make. His fingers on your folds were no longer there, but instead, his thumb was the closest digit, rubbing gently in circles around that one part. The rest of them lay flat on the front of your waistline. 

Then, his tongue doubled up the ecstasy when it reached a swollen spot within your walls. Your voice goes all high and squeaky under his fixations. 

You moan his name. At this point he intensifies his efforts, and applied a bit more pressure to stimulating both areas. You warn him that you’re inevitably reaching your climax, and he intensifies things even further. You feel up his encouragement from how roughly his tongue was fucking you, and that's when you know he isn't delaying your highest point anymore. This time he’s definitely bringing you there, to the peak of your arousal. His tongue suddenly presses hard enough against the gland. Oh god, there it was. That's the ticket. And with a mix of a scream and moan, your fingers run themselves between the thick strands of his reddish-brown hair. You feel a sharp sting from your teeth biting down on your bottom lip, and a muffled curse ran out.

“Mmmmph, f-fuck!”

Now at that state of coming undone, you're unaware of what your body may be doing now. Hopefully, you're not hurting him in any way. You wonder, if for a split second, if he got his face completely in contact with your lower body. You remember that it felt that way, like he was penetrating his tongue deep into you at the last moment. It could probably suffocate him, you thought. You know how his face is. The damage easily done to it by the other boxers was enough. The last person who’d do the same would be you, unintentionally. And he keeps going at it. He's helping you ride out your orgasm as hard a you were just riding his face until you turn into a shaking, quivering mess right on top of him. You force out a soft groan to indicate that you’re all spent up, and with all his might, he lifts you off his face. You let go of your somewhat firm grip on his hair with an assuring stroke. He hums contentedly at the gesture. 

Gasping for breath, you stagger to the foot of bed that was thankfully close by. You climb onto it and lay flat on the sheets. You look directly at Glass Joe, wiping the channeled juices from his mouth with his hand and licking its fingers. The sight arouses your mind, but your body’s too tired to react. Your legs involuntarily spread open for him. That’s when he approaches the bed and sets himself down next to you. You look into each other’s eyes for a moment, sharing this silent moment of the lowest level of intimacy after experiencing the highest kind. Finally, Joe spoke.

“ _Comment tu vas?_ ” he asks you.

You shuffled yourself closer to him. 

“ _Bien._ ”

“ _T’es certain(e)_?”

Ah, he has his doubts. _Comme toujours._

“ _Absolument._ You also did pretty good. I liked that kind of delay. I think we can do it again sometime.” you suggest.

He reaches back to pull the sheets over the two of you. Now you feel like you can lie with him forever. Buried between the bedsheets, you instinctively snuggle up to him. Your eyes traced gently on the formed scars on his chest. You wonder if they hurt, or if they felt good when they’re touched. You might as well find out another day. Right now isn’t a time to ask. You’re too tired, and so is he. You share another soft but deep kiss, and exchange your last words before drifting off to sleep together.

_“Je t’aime.”_

“Love you too, Glass Joe. _Dormez bien, OK?”_

_“Toi aussi, mon amour.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The French exchange at the end went like this:
> 
> "How are you doing?"  
> "Fine/Well/Good."  
> "Are you sure?"  
> "Absolutely...."
> 
> "(okay, you should know what this means)"  
> "...Sleep well, OK?"  
> "You too, my love."
> 
> Also, if you're wondering why I put this extra 'e' in parentheses (like this: "venu(e)") it's because French isn't a gender-neutral language, so every noun is either masculine or feminine (le/la, un/une, etc.) This is what I mean by the reader being referred to with said language "whenever possible."
> 
> I give props to you if you've noticed the trans character that was implied in the tags.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading! Be sure to leave a Kudos and/or a review. Constructive criticism is strongly encouraged.


End file.
